


left behind at the end of the world

by Duck_Life



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Wolverine (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Comics/Movie Crossover, Gay Mutant Road Trip, Gen, Logan (2017), M/M, Reunions, Shatterstar Doesn't Die, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: In 2035, Julio and Laura encounter a weird kid with a ponytail who says he's from another dimension.In 2018, a man parachutes to his death.They say time heals all wounds.





	left behind at the end of the world

**2035**

**Westchester, NY**

They’re not exactly  _ squatting _ in the old X-Mansion. Squatting would imply that they didn’t have a purpose other than walls and a roof. And yeah, the walls and roof are nice, nicer than crashing in Julio’s car on the side of the road, but that’s not why he and Laura are here. 

They’re here for Cerebro. 

“This is a waste of time,” Laura declares for what’s got to be the fourth time today. (These days, she vacillates between solemn silence and chatting a mile a minute. Today is a talking day.) They’ve been here for almost a week. Taking apart what remains of Cerebro and getting it ready to transport takes a lot more time and caution than either of them are really fans of. “Cerebro can’t even be operated by someone who’s not a telepath. Are you a telepath? ’Cause I’m not! Northstar’s not! And neither are Delilah or María or Danny—”

“Laura, be quiet.”

She glares daggers at him almost as deadly as the blades tucked away in her hands and feet. “If you want me to shut up, Rictor, why don’t you come over here and help me wi—”

“Shh!” Julio hisses, eyes wide. Laura gets it then, her sensitive ears picking up what her talking had drowned out. Movement down the hall. Footfalls, and… and the clash of metal. Julio brings a finger to his lips and points to himself and the hall. 

Laura hops down from what was once Cerebro’s console. “I got it,” she whispers as her claws come out with a soft  _ snikt _ . She leads the way out of the Cerebro chamber and down the corridor, toward the source of the noise— the Danger Room. 

It hasn’t been activated in years, the training bots left stagnant wherever the last simulation left them, frozen in time, rusting away. The scraping sound of metal on metal continues, and Julio and Laura creep around the corner to a sight they weren’t expecting. 

A man— a boy, really, maybe 17, no older than Julio— is slashing up what remains of the Danger Room. He looks incredibly dedicated to the task, swinging a double-pronged sword in each hand. 

Laura doesn’t hesitate, just strides out with her claws up. “What the hell are you doing?”

The boy whirls around, his long red ponytail swinging behind him. As soon as he registers Julio and Laura he’s got the swords up defensively. Positioned like that, they look like a comically larger version of Laura’s claws. 

“Careful, Wolverine,” Julio warns, still in the doorway. “Looks like you brought a knife to a sword fight.” 

“Who are you?” Laura demands. Julio kind of gets what’s happening, at least from her perspective— Laura’s always been defensive of the X-Men, probably because of her dad. She still collects the comic books whenever they come across them. To her, this stranger is intruding in her dad’s old home. 

The boy doesn’t lower his swords, but now that he’s standing still Julio gets a better look at him. He’s dressed in white armor, a head piece framing his face. The boy’s tan skin is maybe a shade lighter than Julio’s own, and then there’s all that red, red hair. More hair than Julio’s ever seen on one person, save maybe Sasquatch. 

The weirdest thing by far about his appearance is the black star over his left eye. Julio can’t tell if it’s a tattoo or a birthmark or some kind of war paint. He doesn’t get much of a chance to figure it out, though, because suddenly the stranger is charging him. 

He yells and sends out a quick seismic wave to knock the other boy down. The guy jumps right back up though and keeps going. Laura has to jump in front of Julio, her claws clanging against the stranger’s swords. She moves like wind and somehow the stranger moves faster. Julio slumps against the wall, momentarily forgotten in the fracas. 

Laura and the stranger keep getting hits in, and she’s bleeding a lot and so is the stranger (except his blood is green, which is… weird). If they keep it up, they’re just gonna kill each other, healing factor or not. “ENOUGH,” Julio yells, blasting the Danger Room with enough vibrational force to knock them both down. “Can we just talk? Okay? No more fighting.” Laura looks like she disagrees with that statement as she pushes herself up off the floor. “Wolverine! Stand down.” The boy with the star over his eye jumps to his feet, swords at the ready. “Hey! Who are you anyway? What are you doing here?”

“I am looking for the X-Men,” the boy announces. His accent is strange, not Canadian and not American, something unfamiliar. But it reminds Julio of teaching himself English by watching cartoons, sounding out the words shouted by brightly colored characters. “You are not the X-Men.”

“The X-Men are dead,” Laura says bluntly.

The boy’s eyes swivel to her. “Your comrade-in-arms called you Wolverine,” he says. “Wolverine is an X-Man.”

Laura gets that tightness in her shoulders that shows up whenever anyone brings up her dad. “My dad was also called Wolverine,” she says. “He’s dead, too. With the rest of the X-Men.”

“ _ Fekt.  _ Should have gone back further in the timestream,” the boy says, mostly to himself. He glares up at them. “What year is it?”

“2035,” Julio answers. 

The boy curses in his own otherworldly language again and starts mumbling dates. “Two-oh three-five, too far, two-oh-two-five, earlier, earlier, two-oh-oh-five, but not earlier than Longsh—”

“Dude, you got a name?” Julio asks, interrupting whatever the stranger’s been calculating in his head. 

“Shatterstar.” The boy fixes him with a weirdly intense stare. “I am Shatterstar.”

“Okay, cool,” Julio says, glancing over at Laura. “This is Laura and I’m Julio. But sometimes, like when we’re fighting people or something, we go by Wolverine and Rictor. Is… is Shatterstar your real name or is it just, like, your fighting name…?”

Shatterstar keeps staring at him. His lips move soundlessly, like he’s deciding whether to say something or not. Ultimately, he just says, “My name is Shatterstar.”

“Got it,” Julio says. “Well, Shatterstar, I’m sorry the X-Men are gone. But, uh, maybe me and Laura can help. That’s what we do, you know. We help people.” 

“Ric,” Laura says, turning to him. “We don’t even know where he’s from.”

“So we’ll figure it out,” Julio shrugs. “We’ll take him to Mac and Heather and they’ll figure it out.”

“I will not be  _ taken _ anywhere,” Shatterstar says, clearly uncomfortable with them talking about him in front of him. 

“Right, sorry,” Julio says, holding his hands up as a show of goodwill. (Given that Shatterstar has seen him hold his hands the exact same way to use his powers, though, maybe that’s not the best move.) “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. But Mac and Heather— all of Alpha Flight, really— they’re kind of like the X-Men. They can help, too.”

Shatterstar eyes them cautiously. “My people are slaves,” he says finally. “Seventy years in the future, on a planet called Mojoworld. We are rising up. I was sent to recruit the freedom fighters known as the X-Men to join in our efforts.” 

“Slaves?” Laura says. “You mean like they make you cook and clean and stuff?” 

Shatterstar’s jaw works. “We fight,” he says simply. “They watch.” 

Julio scuffs his shoe against the floor, torn between wanting to know more about Mojoworld and wanting to know nothing about Mojoworld. “We can help,” he says. “All of us. Back where Laura and I come from, we have a team, a… a family, kind of. We’ll help, I promise.” Mac might not be thrilled about him speaking for all of Alpha Flight, but he doesn’t really care. If helping interdimensional refugees isn’t what Alpha Flight’s about, then it should be. Julio stretches out his hand, meaning for Shatterstar to shake it. 

Shatterstar jumps back like he’s being attacked again. 

“Whoa, it’s okay,” Julio says, putting his hand back down. “I’m sorry. I’m— we’re not gonna hurt you. Okay?” He stares at both of them, distrust weighing heavy on him. Julio imagines this skittish, fierce boy forced to fight in front of an audience and abruptly feels nauseated. “You can come with us. It’ll be okay. As soon as we wrap up with the Cerebro stuff, we’ll drive up back to Canada and you can talk to… our people can help.” Shatterstar still looks reluctant. “Hey, you came looking for the X-Men right? Northstar, he was an X-Man. I think, for a little while. You know about Northstar?”

Shatterstar cocks his head to the side. “I have seen vids. He’s incredibly fast. A great warrior.”

“See, there ya go,” Julio says, nodding encouragingly. “Northstar… he’s our friend.”

Laura makes a noise of disagreement low in her throat. 

“He is our friend,” Julio promises. “She’s just bitter because he took away her knives.”

“They’re  _ my _ knives.”

“What do you need them for anyway? You’ve got them in your hands.” Laura grumbles something and crosses her arms. Julio looks back at Shatterstar, who at least looks a little intrigued by the notion of a surviving X-Men member. “Look, um. We’re gonna finish up with Cerebro. We should be done before nightfall, and then we’ll start heading back up north. You’re welcome to come with us. I’ll even put Laura in the back and you can get shotgun.”

He frowns. “I am not in need of weapons. I have my swords.”

“No, uh, ‘shotgun’ means you get to sit up front with the driver,” Julio says, faltering. “I’m not getting into this. Come on, Laura, let’s finish up.” She follows him out of the ruins of the Danger Room, careful to keep herself between him and Shatterstar.

That’s always kind of alarmed Julio, how even though they’ve both been through the same shit, she feels like she needs to protect him. Because of her healing factor, or because of her father, something like that. It’s messed up. Despite being a couple months older than him, she’s like his little sister. His scary, messed-up, deadly little sister. He should be the one protecting her. 

Shatterstar eventually follows them to the Cerebro chamber and watches as they unplug and wrap up the last of the wires and conduits. Laura keeps shooting him suspicious glances, and everything she says to Julio is in Spanish. She does that a lot around strangers, anyone she doesn’t trust, so she can talk only to Julio and not to anyone else. 

When Cerebro is thoroughly gutted, the stars are just starting to pop out over Westchester. “Let’s roll,” Julio says, slamming the cover down over the truck bed. “Shatterstar, like I promised, you’re up front.” 

Laura grumbles about him stealing her spot, but she slides into the backseat nonetheless, positioning herself in the middle so she can still look out the windshield. Shatterstar climbs into the passenger’s seat, looking confused as he takes in all the little pieces and components around him, the seat belt and the rearview mirror and the radio. No one speaks as the three of them drive out of sleepy Salem Center. 

* * *

Julio glances at Laura in the rearview mirror and notices she's donned a pair of pink sunglasses. “Cool shades,” he comments. “Where'd you find those?”

“In a room at the X-Mansion,” she says. 

Julio frowns. “Isn't that kind of like… I dunno. Graverobbing?”

Laura pushes the pink sunglasses up so she can give him a dirty look. “I like them. No one was using them.”

“In my culture,” Shatterstar pipes up, “you honor the dead by wearing a symbol of their courage. It reminds those you survive why they continue to fight.”

Laura looks at Rictor smugly. “See? What he said.”

* * *

When a red Volkswagen beetle passes them on the road, Laura leans forward and punches Julio in the shoulder. “Punch Buggy no punch back.”

Shatterstar whirls around, hands reaching for his swords, apparently under the impression that Laura is attacking them. “You would turn on your friend, girl?!”

“Whoa, easy, amigo,” Julio says, putting a hand on Shatterstar’s arm. The other boy flinches and he immediately takes his hand away. “Laura was just playing a game.”

“A game,” Shatterstar repeats, sitting back down in his seat.

“Yeah, when you see a ‘bug,’ which is the kind of car that just passed us, you punch whoever's in the car with you.” 

“A bug,” Shatterstar says. “Like Herbie.”

“Yes, like— wait, what? How do you know about Herbie?”

“On Mojoworld, we receive transmissions, news broadcasts from Earth. It's why all activity on Mojoworld is geared toward entertainment,” Shatterstar says. “There are many documentaries about the Earth hero known as Herbie the LoveBug.”

Julio laughs, but stops when he sees the look on Shatterstar’s face. “So, yes, Herbie is a bug, but he— I mean, it— is fictional. It's not real.”

Shatterstar’s eyebrows scrunch up, and it's the most normal he’s looked so far. “Not real? I don't understand.”

“There's not REALLY a Volkswagen with a mind of its own. Just like there's not really a Darth Vader or a Dana Scully. On Earth, most of our TV and movies are fictional. They're made up.”

* * *

They spend the next hour on the road playing what might be the weirdest car game ever, which just consists of Shatterstar naming someone he knows from TV and Laura and Julio telling him whether they’re real or fictional. He seems to be going through them by category. They do presidents—

“Barack Obama?”

“Real.”

“Franklin Delano Roosevelt?”

“Real.”

“Josiah Bartlet?”

“Fictional” 

 

They do professional dancers, and chefs, and pop stars. 

 

“Beyonce?”

“Real.”

“Dazzler?”

“Real.”

“Hannah Montana?”

“Fake.”

* * *

Eventually, Julio pulls off to the side of the road to get gas and Laura goes inside to use the restroom and buy more M&Ms, leaving Julio alone with their strange traveling companion. Even though Julio insists he can just sit in the car, Shatterstar gets out to watch him pump gas. “This is fuel,” he says as the tank fills. “This I understand.”

“They got cars on your planet?” 

“Yes,” he says. “Though I never drove one. Vehicles are for the Spineless Ones, the superiors. If we ever needed to leave the arena, we did so in a caravan, locked in place so we could not escape.” 

“Oh,” Julio says, not really sure what to make of that. “That sucks.”

“Sucks?”

“It’s shitty. It blows. It’s… no good.” 

Shatterstar nods contemplatively. “Yes. It was very… shitty.”  

* * *

Once they’re gassed up and Laura’s restocked her candy collection, Julio doesn’t take them back on the highway right away. “C’mon,” he says, pulling into the huge, mostly empty parking lot of a sporting goods store. “Time for a driving lesson.”

Laura goes first. Julio pulls the seat up so she can reach the pedals, and he shows her how to hold her hands on the steering wheel. “I got it,” she snaps. “I know how to drive.” She shifts into drive and takes them in a wobbly circle. She almost drives right over the curb, and Julio has to jerk the steering wheel in the other direction. 

“ _ Mierda _ , you’d think with all the racing games you play you’d be a better driver.” Laura flips him off. “Okay, ‘Star, you’re up.”

Shatterstar takes to driving almost instantly. He’s shaky at first, but soon enough Julio’s got him doing donuts in the parking lot. 

He has to do a double take to make sure he’s seeing right— because Shatterstar is  _ grinning _ .

* * *

Over the course of the drive, the three of them (but mostly Julio and Shatterstar, while Laura zones out and watches the trees out the window) talk about everything and anything… and sometimes, nothing.

Shatterstar talks about Mojoworld and Julio talks about Mexico. Shatterstar tells them about the arena and the Cadre Alliance, and Julio and Laura tell him about Transigen. 

“I don't understand,” Shatterstar says. They zoom past another mile marker on the highway. “It was my understanding that offspring on Earth were grown organically, not through genetic engineering.”

“Usually, they are,” Julio says, his mouth taut. “We’re just special.”

“Scientists at Transigen created us using mutant DNA,” Laura says blankly, staring out the window. “They wanted to use us as weapons. We disagreed.”

Shatterstar says nothing. When Julio looks over, he almost chokes. For the second time, Shatterstar is  _ beaming _ . “Is this  _ funny  _ to you?”

“No, of course not,” Shatterstar says, stowing his grin. “I apologize. I do not mean to diminish your suffering. Just… I am glad that we share something in common.” He smiles again, like he can't help it. “I was also created to fight, to be used as a tool. We come from different worlds, but we share the same story. It is… comforting.”

* * *

They drive as the sky gets purple, then indigo then inky black. Around 11, Julio pulls into a rest stop. “We can stay the night here.”

“We can keep going,” Shatterstar says. “I can drive while you rest.”

“Dude, I  _ just _ taught you how to drive. There’s no way I’m gonna be comfortable sleeping with you behind the wheel.” Shatterstar  _ hmmphs _ but says nothing, and Julio cranks the seat back so he can get some shuteye. “Laur, you good back there?” 

But she’s already asleep. 

Julio tries to relax, but seeing Shatterstar sitting rigidly beside him unnerves him. “You get some sleep, too,” he says. 

Shatterstar shakes his head. “I will watch, in case anyone comes after us.”

“No one’s comin’ after us,” Julio says, sleep weighing his words down. He tries to settle in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We killed all the people that were after us. We’re good.” 

“The second you let your guard down is the second you are killed.” 

“Whatever you say, fortune cookie.”

Shatterstar cocks his head to the side. “Fortune… cookie?”

“Yeah,” Julio says, stretching out, shutting his eyes. “Used to be when you went to a Chinese restaurant, you got a fortune cookie. It was a little… treat… thing… and you opened it up and there was a slip of paper inside and it gave you ‘wisdom’ or whatever.” 

“Fortune cookie,” Shatterstar repeats.

“Yeah, they don’t do it anymore,” Julio says. “Prolly a choking hazard, I dunno.” He shifts again in the seat, trying to get comfortable. “Or maybe somebody finally realized that none of us were actually listening to any of the good advice we were getting.” 

There’s quiet in the car for a long time until Shatterstar finally says, “Goodnight, Julio.”

“Goodnight, Shatterstar.” 

* * *

When Julio wakes up hours later, the sun is squinting above the horizon. And he’s alone in the car.

“No, no, no,” he mumbles, panic rising in his gut. He clambers out and races toward the rest stop, looking around for any suspicious figures or shadowy government agents or—

Shatterstar. Standing with Laura, looking at a map of Ottawa tacked to a corkboard. And they’re eating Pop Tarts. “You can’t just split like that!” he hollers, walking toward the two of them. “I didn’t know where you went!” He doesn’t know which of them he’s madder at.

“We were a couple yards away, relax,” Laura says. “What’d you think? Shatterstar kidnapped me?”

Julio scowls. “I don’t know what I thought, leave me alone,” he sighs, adrenaline and anxiety wearing off now that he’s fully awake. “What’re you two doing, anyway?”

“We both had to use the facilities,” Shatterstar explains. “And now Laura is teaching me about maps. And Pop Tarts! I enjoy them.” He takes a bite of his blueberry Pop Tart and a couple crumbs stick to his chin. 

Julio looks at the Pop Tarts, the vending machine, and then Laura. “Did you pay for those?”

She  _ snikts _ one of her claws up and grins at him. “Sort of.” He tries to look disapproving. “Oh, come on, like you’ve never given a vending machine ‘the shakedown.’” Julio just rolls his eyes and goes to take a piss before loading everyone back in the car.

Apparently, the Pop Tarts aren't enough to satisfy the appetite of their warrior companion. Shatterstar's stomach starts growling audibly about an hour away from the rest stop. “You hungry?” Julio says with a smirk.

Shatterstar sets his jaw. “There is no need to delay our arrival. I am fine.”

He sounds just like Laura when she says she's fine. Rictor rolls his eyes and pulls into the next Denny's he spots.

* * *

About a mile away from the border, Julio pulls over and parks on the shoulder. He drums his hands on the steering wheel and turns to face Shatterstar. “You're gonna have to get in the back-back,” he sighs. “Laura and I have papers; you don't.” 

“You're right, I don't have any papers,” Shatterstar agrees. “All my copyright information is embedded in my DNA.”

Rictor tries to brush that comment off the way he's been brushing off every other similar comment for the last 370 miles. But it's getting harder. “Well, the border police may be Canadian but that doesn't actually make them all that polite. And they're already gonna be pissy when they see I'm Mexican. The last thing we need is an alien gladiator in the passenger’s seat.”

“I understand,” Shatterstar says, but he doesn't look it. He's clinging to the armrests of his seat so tightly that his knuckles look white. “I am to ride in the truck bed?”

“Yeah… c'mere,” Rictor says, cutting the engine and getting out of the truck. Shatterstar follows him out and around the back of the truck. “See, we already have the tarp. You just gotta wiggle around the Cerebro junk, and we'll cover you up. It'll only be a few miles.” Shatterstar looks apprehensively at the tarp over the truck bed. “Hey.” Rictor holds out both his hands, palms up.

Shatterstar looks. “You aren't holding anything.”

“No, I— you're supposed to put your hands in mine.”

“Oh.” He does. 

Rictor looks up at Shatterstar. “You don't have to trust me,” he promises. “You don't have to listen to me. I just don't see another way to get you back to our base.”

Shatterstar looks up ahead, at the winding road, and then looks back at Julio. “I will do it,” he concedes. 

“It’ll be okay,” Julio promises. “Soon as we’re over the border, you can get back in the cab.”

* * *

Julio is true to his word. They stop as soon as they’re out of sight of the security personnel so Julio can get Shatterstar out of the trunk and give him back his rightful place as shotgun.

“We have now entered Canada,” Julio announces as they drive away from the International Boundary. “Nobody eat any human flesh, okay?” 

Neither Laura nor Shatterstar gets his bad Wendigo joke. 

* * *

They reach Alpha Flight HQ at about nine o’clock at night. Laura’s exhausted and goes straight for bed, leaving Julio and Shatterstar standing awkwardly in the foyer.

“Picked up a stray, Julio?” Monet asks, striding forward to look Shatterstar up and down. “Nice to meet you. Don't use up all the hot water.” She brushes past them, toward the kitchen. 

Shatterstar glances warily at Julio. “Who was that?”

“Monet St. Croix,” he says. “She's actually pretty cool, just don't piss her off.”

“And was she…  _ made _ ? Like you and Wolverine?” 

“No,” Ric says, motioning for Shatterstar to follow him as he pulls out bed linens and some towels from a closet. “Transigen's people had been lacing everything— corn syrup, sugar, etcetera— with stuff to suppress mutation for years. But only in America. So in places like England, Japan, and Monaco— where M's from— mutant babies were still being born.”

“Born,” Shatterstar repeats.

“Yeah. Monet showed up here with her sisters about the same time Starsmore and Hisako did.” Rictor leads Shatterstar down the hall to the room designated to be his bedroom. It’s right next to his own. 

* * *

Shatterstar adjusts to living with Alpha Flight pretty fast— faster than Julio did, anyway. Northstar takes him on as kind of a mentee, sparring with him in the training room and attempting to teach him normal table manners.

Shatterstar discovers Heather’s DVD collection and spends a lot of time watching old movies. He also makes friends with Monet and María. Still, he remains close with Laura and Julio. His travel companions, his first friends. 

Sometimes, instead of sleeping, he goes next door to Julio’s room and keeps him up all night, asking questions and telling stories, prodding Julio to tell him more about Earth, and the X-Men, and about Julio himself. 

They settle into a weird sort of harmony. 

* * *

Julio watches Shatterstar's swords slice through the air, tearing through the scarecrow Heather built him to practice on. The warrior leaps quickly and lightly, his swords making short work of the scarecrow. “You're really good at that,” Julio says, curling into the warmth of the sweatshirt Mac leant him. He's swimming in it.

Shatterstar turns and looks at him, eyes sparkling. “I know.” Julio isn't sure if he's always had that ego or if he picked it up from prolonged exposure to Northstar, but it suits him.

“Maybe you could teach me.” The image of Shatterstar pressed against his back showing him proper swordfighting techniques blooms in his brain, and he tries to push it down. 

Shatterstar frowns. “You cannot touch my swords.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Julio says quickly. He's seen how protective Shatterstar is of his swords, should’ve known better. “Never mind.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Shatterstar says. “The swords are bioelectrically attuned to my energy signature.”

“Oh,” Julio says. “Cool.”

“Nobody else can touch them without harming themselves,” he explains. 

“Got it,” Julio says. 

“But,” Shatterstar tells him, his expression changing into something indecipherable. “If you  _ could  _ hold them… I would let you.” His brow furrows and he adds, for clarity, “I would not let anybody else, but I would let you.”

* * *

“We are different.”

Rictor and Shatterstar are stretched out on the hood of Jeanne-Marie's car because the lingering heat of the engine keeps their backs warm in the chilly Canadian air. “Yeah,  _ amigo _ , everyone is,” he says, craning his neck forward to take another sip of the bottle of beer they swiped from Mac. “That's the beauty of the friggin’ human race.”

“No, I mean, you and I are similar but different,” Shatterstar says. Julio turns his head to look at him but miscalculates, ends up far closer to Shatterstar than he intended, their faces mere inches apart. “We both were built for violence. But you were made to fight. I was made to entertain. Which is crueler, do you think?”

Ric thinks about that for a second and then lets out a shaky laugh. “Jeez, Shatty, you can't just hit me with shit like that. ’Specially not when I'm startin’ to get a buzz from Mac's beer.”

“You have not consumed nearly enough to ‘get a buzz,’” Shatterstar points out. 

“Yeah, well.” He was hoping 'Star wouldn't realize that. He was hoping that maybe the warmth in his cheeks and the butterflies in his stomach were just evidence of his low tolerance to alcohol.

* * *

One day Northstar returns from a trip and asks Shatterstar to come outside and look at something. Rictor comes too— he and Shatterstar are kind of a package deal.

At least, that’s what Rictor thought. 

“This is the time cube,” Northstar explains, showing them a blindingly bright platform. “It was created by Reed Richards and Victor von Doom, but it’s been in storage for ages. Apparently, no one knew how to use it.”

“And you do?” Rictor asks. 

“Walter does,” Northstar says. “He, Aurora and I are going back in time to offer our services to the X-Men and do what we can to  _ stop _ Zander Rice before he even gets started.” 

Rictor has about a million questions, but all he can say is, “Oh.” If Northstar stops the Alkali-Transigen group from ever being formed, what does that mean for him and Laura? Do they just stop existing? Knowing Shatterstar is from the future is complicated enough. Now that Northstar’s talking about the past, too, Rictor feels a headache coming on. 

He hears Northstar’s next words like he’s listening through a sheet of glass. “I want you to come too, Shatterstar.” 

* * *

It’s a lot for Shatterstar to think about, and Rictor tries to give him space. When Shatterstar comes and finds him, though, asks him what he thinks, Rictor doesn’t know what to say. Finding the X-Men is what Shatterstar came to Earth to do. Rictor doesn’t want to stand in the way of that.

“You’d have a better life in the past,” Rictor says. “You… you should go.”

“What about you?” Shatterstar asks. 

And Julio spends years wishing he had said something different. What he says is, “I belong here.” 

* * *

Rictor and Laura say goodbye to Shatterstar, Northstar, Aurora and Sasquatch the next morning. Monet’s there, blowing kisses and chattering in French to Jeanne-Marie. Julio waves goodbye, watching Shatterstar disappear and ignoring the leaden weight in his stomach.

 

**2045**

**Davenport, IA**

After the explosion just outside Chicago, Julio waits to hear from Laura. He doesn’t doubt she survived; there’s not a damn thing in the world that could kill that girl. But he knows that there were plenty of people who  _ didn’t _ survive, and the fact that it was an anti-mutant hate crime is going to make Laura blame herself, just for being there. Just for existing. 

He gives her three days of letting her be alone— that’s clearly what she wants, even if it isn’t what she needs— and then he gets Monet to track her down.

* * *

The motel Laura picked couldn’t have been trashier. Almost like she’s punishing herself. Rictor finds the room with the motorcycle parked out front— no plates— and opens the door with a vibe-quake. “Laur? You in here?”

The room is dark, and he can smell blood and alcohol. But then Laura’s voice comes through, faint but sure. “Yes.”

“Hey,” Rictor says, walking into the motel room and letting the door click shut behind him. The place is a mess— sheets torn up, either in anger or to use as bandages while her healing factor finishes up. There are so many empty bottles on the floor that it looks like she robbed a liquor store. 

And Laura’s slumped in the corner, a big bottle of vodka propped between her knees. “I’m… guessing that’s not to sterilize your wounds,” Rictor says.

Laura looks up at him, and her face just looks awful. Not survived-an-explosion awful— she’s all healed up from that now. But there are shadows under her eyes so gray-purple they look black. She’s been crying, he can tell. And Laura  _ never _ cries. “They died,” she says quietly, looking at him but only barely seeing him. “I heard the number on the news. Twenty-seven people died, and I didn’t.” She takes a big swig of vodka and winces. “What kind of math is that?”

“This… this is survivor’s guilt, Laura,” he says, trying to be gentle, not getting any closer. Laura’s like a spooked animal sometimes, and he gets a feeling that if he tries to get too near her without her okay he’ll end up with claws in his face. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“No. I could have found the explosive. Or evacuated the building, or…” She downs more vodka to cover up the sob. “I am supposed to be a fucking hero.” 

“You are.” He sighs, trying to figure out how to get through to her. It’s not like he has much in the way of family. A couple years ago when the Starjammers came to ask Alpha Flight’s help in fighting the Brood, the whole team went with them, along with most of the original Transigen kids. Besides Julio and Laura, only Monet and Hisako stayed behind, to track down newly manifested mutants and provide a place for them. 

But that’s never really been Julio’s gig, and it isn’t Laura’s either. 

They only have each other. And right now it feels like Julio’s losing Laura, even though she’s right there in the room. “I ever tell you I got away from Transigen once?” Julio says, stepping over empty liquor bottles to get to Laura. “Before we all did, I mean. I was… I dunno, 11 or 12. I got out. But then I got scared, and I didn't have any control on my powers.” He shudders, reaching the other side of the cruddy motel room and leaning against the wall. “I leveled three city blocks in Guadalajara.”

Laura looks up at him, her eyes wide. 

“That's how they got me back, the bastards,” Julio continues. “By convincing me that I was dangerous to everyone around me. That they were the only ones who could keep me from hurting everyone else.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anybody,” Laura says. He slides down the wall and sits next to her, close enough that she can lean on him. “I thought I could  _ help _ . I was just… I didn’t want anybody to get hurt.”

“But there are bad people out there,  _ mijita _ ,” he sighs. “And we can’t stop them all. Even if we wish we could. All we can do sometimes is make sure that they don’t stop  _ us _ .” 

He holds Laura as she cries, her face red and her shoulders shaking. The sound is ugly and full of pain, and it hurts him to see her like this, makes his chest ache. Finally, Laura scrubs at her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve and says clearly, “I want to go see my dad.”

So they go.

During the drive northwest, Julio wonders if she's also thinking of the time they drove from Westchester to Canada with an alien gladiator in the passenger’s seat. 

He glances over at one point to see her wearing the pink sunglasses she took from the X-Mansion so many years ago. “Jesus, you still have those?”

“They remind me of the X-Men,” she says. “And of why we keep fighting. Because most days, I have no idea.”

* * *

The X that marked Logan’s grave is long gone, blown away by wind or carried away by animals, but the mound of rocks is still there. The rocks, and the body far beneath them. Laura approaches the spot where her father is buried and kneels, placing her hands on the rocks in front of her. 

“I’ll just…” Julio trails off, turning away to give her a private moment to grieve. Laura’s relationship with her father— Laura  _ having  _ a father— had always been a source of intrigue and jealousy among the other Transigen kids. To have someone who cared for her, someone who was blood, was something everyone craved. 

But the comfort, safety and legacy of Logan also came with the loss, the pain. Laura had a father, yes, but she had him for less than a week before he perished. Was it worth it? Julio’s never asked her. 

He’s still looking away when he hears the noise— some kind of energy signature, and a clap similar to thunder. He whirls around. At the same time, Laura rises to her feet, claws out.

There's a man standing in front of them, a man who looks totally out of place in the woods of North Dakota. He's decked out in flexible-looking blue armor, with yellow straps and belts holding everything in place. He has big black boots and an even bigger gun, and there's a red neckerchief tied below his chin. His long black hair falls loosely over his shoulders, and he has an M branded over one eye.

“Excuse me,” he says, the gentle tone not fitting the towering man, “have you seen the Wolverine?”

Laura and Julio stare at him blankly. 

“This is the last known location of Logan Howlett,” the man clarifies. “Is he around here? Did he just leave?”

Laura crosses her arms, but she doesn't put away the claws. “He died,” she says bluntly. “Who wants to know?”

The man looks visibly uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” he says. “My name is Lucas Bishop. I must be in the wrong time.”

“What did you want with Logan anyway?” Julio asks. 

Bishop sighs and looks down at the thing on his wrist, like he can still get out of here without dealing with any long explanations. “I… It’s complicated. In the time I came from, the year 2018, a man called Deadpool took several mercenaries on a mission to rescue a young mutant. Except for one, all those mercenaries died.”

“Tragic,” Laura says. “What does that have to do with my dad?”

“Logan is your— ? Never mind,” Bishop says, rubbing his temple at the beginnings of a temporal migraine. “The point is, I couldn’t conduct a rescue mission alone, and the X-Men are busy at my point in time. Trying to time-travel at such short range with multiple people isn’t safe, so I came to the future to enlist a future version of Wolverine. But…” He looks down at the pile of rocks that marks Logan’s grave. 

“Well,” Laura says after a long pause, “I’m Wolverine. I could help you.”

Bishop looks at her, and to Rictor’s surprise he doesn’t look skeptical. Just curious. “You’d help me? You don’t even know me.”

“We help people we don’t know all the time,” Rictor points out. “And besides, you’re one of the X-Men.” He looks down at Laura. “We’re sort of fans.” 

“As long as you’re sure,” Bishop says. “Let’s go.” And he hits a button on his chronometer. 

 

**2018**

**Danbury, CT**

 

Laura, Julio and Bishop materialize on the side of the road. Time traveling makes Rictor’s legs feel like jelly, but there’s no time to get acclimated. Bishop points out the incoming jet and explains what they have to do.

While Bishop goes to save one parachuter from smashing into a bus and Laura takes off to save a man from flying into an electrical wire, Julio uses a vibe-quake to intercept a member of X-Force heading straight for a wood-chipper. 

“You alright?” he yells to the guy, now safely on the ground.

“Yeah,” the guy says, dusting himself off. “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

Rictor’s not done yet, though. There’s somebody falling directly on the path of the propellers of a nearby helicopter. Julio runs across the road to shake things up. He manages to rattle the building where the helicopter is, causing whoever’s piloting it to cut the motor. 

The propellers slow, and the guy parachuting down touches down right in front of him— and promptly gets tangled up in his parachute. When Rictor runs forward to help, the X-Force member doesn’t seem thrilled at the assist.

“My landing was flawless,” the stranger huffs from beneath the mass of parachute material. “I required no help!”

“Hey, I just saved your life,” Julio says, hands on his hips indignantly. “A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

“Well, thank you,” the man says, struggling out of the parachute, “for your  _ unnecessary  _ help.” He tries to step out from under the material and ends of tripping, landing in a ball on the ground, still wrapped in his parachute. 

Julio chokes back a laugh. “You need a hand?”

“... Yes,” the man says finally. Julio shakes his head and leans down to untangle the man. He didn't get a good look at the stranger when he was plummeting toward the helicopter propellers, but there's something familiar about his accent, about his voice. Julio pulls back the last stubborn layer of parachute material to reveal— “SHATTERSTAR?!”

“Rictor!” Shatterstar shouts, jumping up and nearly tripping over his parachute again in his effort to sling his arms around Julio’s neck.

“Yeah, it’s me, dude,” Julio says, flooded with joy and confusion and utter disbelief. “It's okay. We're okay.”

And then Shatterstar kisses him.

It’s like a bunch of puzzle pieces clicking into place at once. Because they’ve never kissed before— come close, sure, but all those nights on the Alpha Flight base, those near-misses, those nights when their hands would brush and Julio would think,  _ Does he… ? Do we… ?  _ This is the culmination of all those should-have-been moments.

Their reunion doesn’t last very long. Across the street, a man dressed in red and black is arguing about something with Bishop. 

Julio and Shatterstar head over to see what’s going on. 

“Aww, c’mon,” Deadpool whines, stomping toward Bishop. Julio notices that he's wearing a chronometer that looks like a janky version of the one on Bishop’s own wrist. “That's not what happened! Now there's too many characters.”

“I just saved your team,” Bishop scowls. “X-Force doesn't die on their first mission anymore.”

“This isn't X-Force,” Deadpool groans, waving his arms in the direction of Zeitgeist and the Vanisher. He starts counting on his fingers. “X-Force is me, Domino, Cable, Firefist, Negasonic Teenage Blahblah and her super-cool girlfriend Yukio.  _ This _ is, like, a red herring.”

“These men are heroes,” Bishop says sternly.

“Fine, fine, heroes, whatever,” Deadpool sighs. “Maybe in the spinoff. Not in this movie!”

“What movie?” Shatterstar says suddenly, his shoulders stiffening. Julio glances over at him.

“Never mind,” Deadpool says, waving his hand dismissively.

“Right,” Shatterstar says. “I'm out of here.”

“Yeah,” Bedlam says, “and if we're so expendable, maybe we should form our own team.”

“Like what?” Deadpool says. “Astonishing X-Men? Extraordinary X-Men?”

“I was thinking… X-Statix,” Zeitgeist says. Bedlam and the Vanisher smile in agreement and high-five him. “Shatty, you in?”

Shatterstar hesitates. “I… think I'd rather stay with Rictor and Wolverine,” he says. “Speaking of which, where is Wolverine?”

* * *

Laura is occupied throwing knives and, when she runs out of those, rocks at Domino. “This is amazing!” she trills while Domino good-naturedly dodges every projectile. “Ric, look what she can do!”

“Wolverine, quit throwing shit at Domino.”

“But she dodges it!” Laura huffs. 

“That’s like sayin’ just because you heal fast it’s okay to stab you.” While they’re arguing, Domino shrugs and walks off, presumably to catch up with the version of Deadpool who  _ isn’t _ here from the future. 

Laura crosses her arms. “Do you want to stab me?” 

“Frequently.” Rictor rolls his eyes, his brain in a million different places. “Look—”

“Who is that?” Deadpool asks, interrupting. “Who is she?” 

“Wolverine.”

“ _ That _ is not Wolverine,” Deadpool says, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh, no way.” 

Laura stomps over to see what Deadpool’s talking about. “I assure you I  _ am _ Wolverine,” she says,  _ snikt _ ing her claws out to prove it. 

“What’d they do? Run out of adamantium before doing the third claw?” Deadpool asks. Laura scowls and looks about ready to pounce, and no matter how much fun that would be to watch, Rictor doesn’t want to deal with picking up body parts for the rest of the afternoon. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, pulling Laura back. While they’re all distracted, the Vanisher gathers up the newly formed X-Statix and, well,  _ vanishes _ . “Uh… so, Mr. Pool.”

“Mr. Pool was my father. Call me Wade.”

“Whatever,” Rictor sighs. “We… uh, Laura and me, and Bishop there, we’re from the future.” 

“So am I!” Deadpool says, sounding delighted. “One week in the future to be exact. What about you guys? Two weeks? Three weeks?”

“Twenty-seven years,” Bishop says, looking completely done with Deadpool’s antics and general tomfoolery. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Deadpool says. “No offense but I’m gonna get out of here before I get wrapped in some Days of Future Past bullshit. This face doesn’t look good with word ‘SLAIN’ pasted over it. Toodles!” He hits a button on his jailbroken vortex manipulator and winks out of time and space, leaving Rictor, Shatterstar, Bishop and Laura alone in the middle of the street. 

* * *

“Now what?” Rictor says, voicing what both Shatterstar and Laura are thinking.

“The mission was a success,” Bishop says, looking pleased— or as pleased as he  _ can _ look with that permanently taciturn expression. “Now, I go back to the X-Mansion. But I can take you two back to the future if you’d like.”

Shatterstar is the one to react first. “I won’t leave Julio,” he insists, latching onto Rictor’s hand. “Or Laura, either,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. Laura doesn’t let it bother her; after all,  _ she’s _ not the one mooning over Shatterstar and getting kissed by him. 

“Yeah, and I don’t want to go back to the future,” Rictor says. “It kind of sucked. If we have a chance here—”

“— to join the X-Men,” Laura butts in, cutting him off. “We could join the X-Men.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Rictor says. “I’m pretty sure they don’t just randomly recruit every mutant from the future who shows up on their doorstep.”

Bishop snorts. “You’d be surprised.” Something dawns on his face then. “I didn’t think of this before but… Your father is there.” 

Like Bishop, Laura isn’t someone to let all her emotions show on her face. Right now, though, her eyes are swimming with so many feelings that she looks about ready to burst into tears. Reigning herself in, she says only, “I want to see him. I want to…” She stops, panicked. “He doesn’t know me. Will he be angry to learn about me, showing up like this? Will he be… will he not believe me?”

Bizarrely, Bishop looks amused. “It… won’t be easy at first,” he admits. “But you’re far, far from the first future kid to show up and announce that you’re the child of one of the X-Men.” 

“The X-Men,” Shatterstar says slowly, carefully, like if he speaks too fast or too loud the whole illusion will shatter. “I came to this planet seeking the X-Men. But over time, my mission became… muddled.” He’s not looking at Rictor, but it feels like he might be trying very hard  _ not to _ . “I joined Deadpool’s X-Force in the hopes that I could persuade the team to help me take down the corrupt regime on my homeworld. I would like to make the same request of the X-Men, and fulfill the job I came to Earth for… but, more than that… I would like to find a place where I fit. If that is with the X-Men, then that is where I will stay.” 

Bishop nods. “I never felt like I fit anywhere, either,” he shares. “But I do have a place with the X-Men. And I’m sure there’s a place for you, too.” His eyes pivot to Julio. “Rictor?”

Ric scratches the back of his neck. “Eh, I was thinkin’ of maybe going to college, or opening up a bar…” Laura and Shatterstar both look at him with near-identical expressions of shock and disappointment, and he laughs. “Nah, I’m fucking with you guys. Who’m I to break up a good team?” 

He slings one arm around Laura’s shoulders and one around Shatterstar’s. 

“Let’s go be X-Men.” 


End file.
